A Passing Glance
by Mom-Ra
Summary: Nicholas sees someone, for the first time, who will have a profound effect on his life.


All characters from Forever Knight belong to Sony/Tristar and were created by Barney Cohen and James Parriot. No copyright violation is intended, no money is being made.  
  
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'A Passing Glance' © 2001 by Mom-Ra   
  
  
  
Nicholas slid his sword into his belt, and pulled on his boots. Looking out from his hiding place, to see if the courser was still there, he crept slowly toward the animal. It was an obstinate brute, and did not like being ridden.  
  
  
The boots were too large for Nicholas, so he carefully slid his feet along the ground, trying not to make a sound. The beast gave no sign that it had noticed the stealthy approach. Nicholas sidled up to it, crooning softly, letting it know he was near. He laid a hand gently on it's flank, and when it didn't start, he patted it, and rubbed it's back.  
  
  
"Easy, boy." he said, softly. Then he swung his leg up and over his mount. Or rather, tried to. He got his foot up onto the dog's back, then had to haul himself up the rest of the way. He grasped its ears, imagining he held onto a gilded bridle. Nicholas almost fell off when the big dog got to its feet, but he hung on determinedly. The huge mastiff sat back down, and Nicholas slid to the floor with an undignified thump.  
  
  
He was about to reprimand the dog, when he heard someone walking down the corridor. Nicholas hid behind a corner, listening to the solid footfalls. He drew his sword, and held his breath, waiting ... waiting for the brigand to come into view. He waited ... and heard ... nothing.  
  
  
Cautiously, he peered around the corner, and was nearly startled out of his wits when he was grabbed from behind. He screamed, and dropped his little wooden sword, as he was lifted out of the man-sized boots, and crushed in a scratchy bear hug. He shrieked with laughter as his father tickled him with his stubbled chin.  
  
  
Then he was swung high, and held at arm's length for a moment before being cuddled close. The tall man carried his son over to a bench beside the hearth, and sat down with him. He gazed lovingly down into midnight blue eyes that mirrored his own, at the flaxen-haired child in his lap. By now, he should have two or three other children, but sadly, his wife bore him naught but stillborn babes. Nevertheless, they remained hopeful, and as her latest confinement was drawing to an end, they prayed that they might be able to tell Nicholas that there was a baby in the house.  
  
  
Lord de Brabant and his son sat quietly for a while, enjoying the close comfort of one another. Nicholas reached up to grasp a strand of his father's hair and rubbed it gently between his little fingers, while he sucked his thumb. He was starting to feel sleepy, and had closed his eyes, when he heard his father say, "I noticed you were wearing a new pair of boots. Are you getting too big for your old ones?"   
  
Nicholas opened his eyes, and smiled, but didn't say anything.   
"In fact," his father continued, "I would say you have grown some since last I saw you."   
  
That got a laugh from the boy. "You saw me at suppertime, papa." Nicholas reminded him, and sat up; he didn't feel quite so sleepy anymore.  
  
"And since you are getting so big, perhaps it is time you had a horse of you own?"  
  
The little boy's eyes grew wide, and he stared open-mouthed at his father, not sure he'd heard correctly. "A horse, papa?"  
  
"Would you like to see him?"  
  
Quickly, Nicholas scrambled to his feet, and de Brabant swooped the delighted child up onto his shoulders, and they went out into the stable yard.  
  
  
Though evening was approaching, the air was still warm, and the westering sun lit the yard with a soft glow. The stalls were redolent with sweet-scented hay, and the warm, rich smell of horses. Nicholas was set down in the soft straw, next to a tiny black foal. He looked from the foal, to his father, then back at the little animal. He reached out, and gently stroked the foal's soft, black coat.  
  
"Is he truly mine?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe it.  
  
"Yes, Nicholas. Do you like him?"  
  
  
The boy was too filled with awe to answer; he just kept looking at the foal. His very own horse. "I want ride him now."  
  
His father smiled, and shook his head. "No, he is too small yet. Come." He held out a hand, and Nicholas went with him to the stall where the big, gray Camargue was kept. The horse stood quietly while a blanket and saddle were tossed over it's back, and the halter was slipped on. Then Nicholas was lifted up onto the horse. The animal was gentle, and paid little heed to the tiny rider, but suffered itself to be led around the stable yard, then out through the gate, to the grassy meadows below the great manor house.  
  
  
Nicholas was so overjoyed, so enamored of the foal, he could hardly spare a thought for his ride. He was brought back to his surroundings when his father asked him why he was being so quiet. "Have you fallen asleep up there, Nicholas?" de Brabant smiled at his little son.  
  
The boy giggled, then asked if they might go faster. In an easy motion, de Brabant swung up on the horse behind the boy, and held him close. Urging the horse into an easy canter, they rode through the pasture, skirting the woodland.  
  
  
Nicholas thought he might die of happiness. This was the best day of his young life. His father let the big gray horse have a good gallop, while the shadows lengthened, and the sun set in a lovely blaze of pink and gold. Just as the moon crested the tree tops, de Brabant checked the horse, and swung down. He held the horse's head, and patted it's soft nose. Then, he led the Camargue back to the stables, with Nicholas astride, flapping the reins against it's proud neck, imploring it to put on speed.  
  
"That's enough for today, Nicholas. The horse is tired."  
  
"Please, papa. I'm not tired, I want to ride some more." the boy returned. "Why do we have to go back now?"   
  
"Because it's growing dark, little one, and you need to be in bed."  
  
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An outlander was making his way through the woodland. It was quite free of undergrowth, and his mount went through, unhindered. He stopped at the edge of the wood, for he heard voices, and watched as a man, leading a large, gray horse, came into view. A small child sat astride the horse, a boy of not more than five summers. The child gleefully urged the horse to go faster, and the stranger smiled, his cold heart touched by the boy's exuberance.   
  
  
As the pair came closer, the stranger caught his breath, for the nobleman was surely one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen. He was tall and strong, and his hair fell to his shoulders in loose golden-red waves. His face was fair and pleasant, and his blue eyes, though mild with affection for the boy, showed intelligence and courage. The man didn't notice him, but the boy did, and stared frankly at him. Then boy smiled, and waved to him, and the stranger returned the boy's salute with a nod.  
  
  
Nicholas knew it wasn't polite to stare, but he couldn't help it; he had never seen anyone like this person before. He was dressed all in black, and sat astride a tall black horse. Nothing unusual in that, but he was so pale, and his hair was cut very short, shorter even than the priest's, and Nicholas wondered if the man had been ill. Suddenly, following the generous impulse that all children seem to have, he smiled and waved to the stranger.  
  
"Who are you waving to, Nicholas?" asked de Brabant.  
  
"That man, over there." Nicholas answered, "The one on the big, black horse." His father looked at the place the boy pointed to. He scanned the eaves of the forest, but saw no one at all. 


End file.
